On Your Mind
by BobLoblawLawBlog
Summary: They're still learning each other by touch and by heart, but for now she has new ideas for when she's alone - shameless Makorra smut


She holds her breath for the moment when Mako will let go, but damnit, it's taking forever. Lately, she's had to still the aching thrum between her thighs with her own hands to just get to sleep at night, wet but hollow and missing the weight of him. It was like eating a plate of vegetables when you wanted a rare steak.

And now they are on her bed again. It had taken weeks to get him there the first time, to kiss her while lying down, her bare foot snaking up his muscled calf, his arms around her waist. His lips are always insistent but controlled, his tongue searching but never greedy. She wonders if he notices her responses, if he knows what it does to her when he seemingly slips up and grinds his hips into her ever so slightly when she pushes him against a wall, when his thumb grazes the side of her breast on its way up to her shoulder. She wonders if he can feel the heat rocket through her body, sense the quake in her groin, if he knows that she is picturing him, all of him, nude, sweat following the crevices of his chiseled body. She's seen him with his shirt off before, the dash of hair that runs from his navel to the waistband of his pants. And she wants to chase after it. With her tongue.

But she's scared him off once before, so she doesn't risk too much. Their love is young, after all, and she is still learning him.

Still.

Things are getting heated, like they sometimes do, and his tongue is rolling over hers like the tide. Her fingers are starting to pull at his scalp, and his hand has finally, _finally _made a path down her lower back to the curve of her ass and then down her upper thigh, which he _grips _like it's his last hold on the earth. And she moans a little and draws her right leg up over his left hip so that he can squeeze harder, pull closer. And when they meet, she feels his hard-on press demandingly into her. It's such a surprise—a _welcome _surprise, but he doesn't know that—that she gasps into his mouth, and just like that, the whole thing falls apart. His mouth pulls away from hers, and suddenly she is missing his body like a lost limb, and she's ready to reach into her pants and rub one out right there and then because she's so mad at him.

But Tenzin's training must be sinking in, because instead she just breaths and stares at him while he sputters an apology and rolls over on his back. She rests a hand lightly on his chest. "You okay?" she asks softly, hoping she doesn't sound as wound up as she feels.

"I just need a minute," he exhales, his eyes closing, his hand wrapping around hers. "Things are just getting a little…_intense._"

_That's sort of the point, dumbass._

Silence passes between them while she watches him breathe. "I don't mind, Mako," she says after a while, "that you, you know, want me."

His eyes open, and he turns his head to look at her still lying on her side, her head propped up with her other hand.

"We haven't really talked about it," he says. "I just don't want to screw up."

_Oh, is _that_ it now?_

"So far, so good," she says, scooching a little closer. "Except when you push me away."

She can tell there's another "I'm sorry" on his lips, but she's sick of apologies, so she catches them with hers. They stay there for a minute or so before a question is fighting its way to the surface.

"Have you ever, you know, had sex?" It's the first time that word has left either of their mouths, and his eyes widen a little.

"No," he says. "But I've done stuff that's pretty close to it, I guess. More than kissing, anyway."

Now it's her turn to be a little surprised, but she's also a little turned on. She starts absently playing with the buttons on his shirt, which has come untucked and is a little rumpled.

"So why don't we ever do more than kissing?"

He meets her eyes again.

"I dunno. I guess I just didn't know what you were comfortable with. I don't want to push you."

She doesn't quite believe him, but she lets him off the hook, until…

"Do you ever _think _about…doing that stuff with me?" She's worked the buttons loose, and now she's running the flat of her palm along his ratty undershirt, trying to get to his skin without him noticing.

"Um." He blinks rapidly, and his breathing starts to get shallow. "Once or twice or…"

While he's stammering, she decides to be bold and straddles him before he can protest, her hands under his clothes now, feeling the blazing warmth of his stomach, his chest.

He inhales sharply in surprise, and as the breath leaves his body, the words tumble out, "…twenty, twenty-five times…"

Her fingers find a nipple, and she pinches it experimentally.

"…a day."

_That's more like it._

His face and neck are flushed, and she can feel his heart pounding against her touch, from nerves or arousal or both it's hard to tell.

"Relax," she says, biting her lower lip and suppressing a triumphant laugh. "We're not going to do anything you're not comfortable with. At least, not anything you haven't done already."

And she feels her own heartbeat start to pick up as she withdraws her hand from under his shirt, crosses her arms over her middle, and lifts her shirt over her head. There's still a layer of fabric over her breasts, but it's a start, right?

As she leans back over him, his hands rise to her bare waist, and he says, "You lead the way."

She likes that.

Her mouth falls against his, and he opens to her with a kind of zeal she hasn't felt in him before. His hands are everywhere, _almost_, pressing hotly against her bare back and gripping her hips while she feels him, hard as a rock inside his pants. She gets him to sit up so that she can work his shirt and undershirt the rest of the way off, and in that sitting position, she presses wet, demanding lips and tongue against his neck and shoulders. He groans, and his hips move upwards ever so slightly before he stops. She can tell the habit of controlling himself is kicking in again.

"I want to know what you think about," she whispers, trying to egg him on, "when you picture us together."

He stiffens a little in her arms, but the twitch in his pants tells her she did something right.

"That's pretty personal," he says, but there is a note of playfulness in his voice.

"It involves me, so I think I deserve to know."

"Be careful what you wish for," he says, and with a hand, he tilts her head back so that he can suck at the base of her throat. She wants him to devour her.

She grips his shoulders with all her strength and pushes him down onto the bed, their bodies flat against each other and the sweat beginning to gather at the back of her neck. "It can't be half as bad as what's in _my _head."

At that, he lets his teeth dig in a little bit at the spot where he was kissing the tendons of her neck. The rawness of it excites her. This is _better _than her fantasies, so far. "Try me," he says, and a thrill shoots down her spine to where she's sure she's soaked through her underwear.

"In my head, I take the buttons off your shirt with my teeth and rip your undershirt in half."

She feels his abs flex under her hands and his groin jerk against hers. She returns his bites by leaving tracks of her own down his chest before licking one of his nipples.

"And see, I think about taking your clothes off slowly, piece by piece."

_Of course._

She pinches the tip with her teeth before asking, "What do you take off first?"

"Your wrap, then I pull your shirt off while kissing every inch of you as it goes." He doesn't even have to think about it. "And then I do this."

Like he's rehearsed it in his head a million times, his thumb slips under her wrapping, massaging the underside of her breast, and she stops what she's doing because she can't feel anything else all of a sudden.

"Of course," he says, "I don't really know how these work."

"In my fantasy, you just burn them off, but until you get better at this…"

She takes both of his hands and helps him find the knot that makes it all come loose. "I'll have to remember that," he says.

"What next?" she asks, thinking she could get used to his slow and steady way of doing things as his hands trace the outlines of her, testing the skin that has just been revealed to him, like he's trying to learn her, memorize her. She feels admired. Worshipped.

"I think it's your turn," he says. "What do we do once we're here?"

She laughs a little. "We take our pants off and get going."

"I think you skipped a step," he teases, and before she knows it, he's flipped her over, and his hands are everywhere. "Because I want to put my mouth all over you first." The heat is rising, and she feels like she might melt. "I want to kiss you here." His lips touch her collarbone. "Here." His hand falls against her stomach. "Here," he says softly, and that hand slips down to cup her sex through her clothing, and her head digs into the pillow as she gasps. "And especially here," and with his hand still on her, he moves his mouth to her breast and takes a nipple in his mouth before pulling back and blowing on it until it peaks. She cries out just a little before choking it back, arching into him and trying to move against his hand. But he presses his weight into her and keeps her still.

"It seems like you've _really _thought about this," she gasps.

"You have no earthly idea." Those words, the strength of their mutual desire, coupled with the feel of him as he dives back to her breasts is nearly enough to make her come. "Your turn," he says.

"I want to feel you all over me, the weight of you against me, your skin and lips and tongue on me." They're moving into territory where the exact details start to get fuzzy. It's just bodies and rubbing and having that hollow feeling filled somehow. She's not even sure what he looks like with his pants off. So she fleshes the fantasy out with the information her body gives her in the moment. "I want you to touch me down there, get me ready for you."

Both hands are on her chest now, but his hips are moving purposefully against hers, and she can feel the jut of his pelvic bone against the place where she touches herself when she thinks of him. "I can feel how wet you are, how much you want me." She's not sure if this is the fantasy talking or if he's describing what's happening in the moment. "I imagine that you taste amazing, that you moan and beg me to keep going, that I make you come before I even enter you."

She's desperate and flips them over so that she can control the pace and the friction, searching for just the right angle. Her skin is on fire, and all she can do is gasp out, "I wonder what it's like to feel you inside me."

He grabs her hips so hard it hurts a bit, and he helps her grind along his length until she feels herself tipping over the edge, her pulse humming in her ears and a strangled cry leaving her lips. "I want to be in you so bad it hurts sometimes. I want to take you and just…"

His words cut off all of a sudden, and she feels his hips stutter against hers, and she smiles like she's claimed a victory while they ride their climaxes out together. They are still half-clothed, but at least he's here. Because while she knows they both want it, it's not time yet. It will be one day soon, but not tonight. They're still learning each other by touch and by heart.

But for now she has new ideas for when she's alone.


End file.
